


Nothing Is As It Seems

by Agent_Devlin



Category: The Blacklist (US TV), Whiskey Cavalier (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York, New York City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-28 14:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Devlin/pseuds/Agent_Devlin
Summary: A lot can happen in New York. You just don't know who might turn up to help you in your time of need.





	1. We're Going To Need More Help.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. This is my first time posting any work that I've written so please be kind. I'm making this up as I go along. Please bear with me. Thank you.

It’s eerily silent inside the Dead Drop except for the sound of broken glass crunching under their feet. No one pays any attention to the outside bustling sounds of a late night in New York. The team is gathered around the main area of the safehouse as a video is paused on Standish’s laptop. On the screen, a dark figure lurks in the shadows of an alleyway; shoulders hunched as it tries to hide its face. But one thing is clear. Alex Ollerman is still alive and he’s on a mission; A mission to dismantle the team. Standing barely escaped Ollerman's attack as he was walking home from the bus stop. Luckily, he managed to get away with a few scrapes and bruises. The tension in the room speaks volumes, and no one knows how to process this new information.

Will pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh, the lines of his brows furrowing together in a frustration that he’s trying to keep at bay. “How the hell is this guy still alive?” No one moves a muscle or speaks as they try to ponder the question.

“This can’t be possible,” Frankie admits, equally surprised, as she stands next to Will. “I mean, it can’t be. Will and I literally saw him jump out of a window.”

Standish clears his throat from where he’s seated at a bar stool around haphazardly cleaned broken glass and chipped wood. “I might have an idea.” They look all look at him expectantly as he opens and closes his mouth a few times. Susan raises an eyebrow coaxing him to speak. “This might be one of those Resident Evil type things where he created a bunch of clones of himself.” Frankie’s eyeroll is subtle, but Will and Susan vocalize their disdain with a scoff or groan. Ray, who has been sweeping the area, pauses, eyes wide as if considering the possibility. Jai, seated next to Standish, merely smirks but says nothing. “I mean, think about it,” he tries to reason. "How else would he have survived those other times we almost killed him?” He points to Jai. “You believe me, right, man? As a man of science, you have to think it’s at least possible.”

Jai gives him a look with a subtle shake of his head. “I am not going to justify that with a response.”

“This isn’t fiction, Standish. This is real life. Come on, there’s no such thing as clones.” Frankie tries to reason with him.

Standish pouts as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Y’all are crazy.”

Ray leans in closer to Standish and whispers, “I believe you, man.” Standish smiles in thanks. Ray immediately straightens up as he feels Frankie glaring at him. Ray avoids eye contact and continues sweeping.

“Okay, guys. Focus.” Will commands everyone’s attention. “This guy is still out there, which means there’s a chance the organization he’s working for is planning on carrying out an attack. We need to bring 120% if we’re going to finally catch this guy.”

Frankie’s eyes harden. “And this time, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in him.” She let him get away once, and he almost killed a member of their team. Nobody gets away with something like that.

The muscle in Will’s jaw twitches. He doesn’t like the idea, but he understands that it needs to be done. “Okay,” he sighs as he gets his thoughts in order. “Jai, can you continue to go through CCTV footage to see if there’s any other trace of Ollerman? See if we can follow where he went.”

Jai pivots on his stool and begins typing away at his laptop. “Already on it.”

Standish’s fingers are already typing away across his keyboard. “I’ll cross-reference any known contacts or aliases Ollerman might have to see if we can figure out where he’s going next.”

Will nods. “Good. I might have a contact in the FBI that could help with that. Frankie and I will set up a meeting with him.” Will glances over at Frankie to see her typing away on her phone. She avoids his eye contact because she knows he's going to want to talk. He, instead, turns his attention to Susan. “Susan, you and Ray can probably go home and rest for the night.”

“No, are you crazy?” She shakes her head and rests a hand on Will’s arm. “I know how much we need to get this son of a bitch. Ray and I are staying to help as much as we can. If anything, I’ll make Ray finish cleaning the place.” She looks over her shoulder at Ray and smiles as he gives a thumbs up and smiles back, hand still gripping the broom.

Grateful, Will gives a tired smile. “Thank you.” He turns to Frankie who is busy with her phone. Making sure no one is paying them any attention; he lowers his voice. “Hey, can we talk a minute?”

Frankie spares him a glance as she continues with her texting. “Not here.”

“Look, I just thought-”

She sends him a glare. “I said not now. Besides,” she casually lifts a shoulder. "I have a contact that also might be of use to us. He said he’s willing to meet.”

He nods. “Okay, good. Let me call my guy and set something up.” Frankie nods and walks away as he pulls out his phone. He dials in a number and holds it up to his ear. The person on the other end picks up after two rings. “Ressler, it’s Will Chase. Do you have a minute?”


	2. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worlds are colliding. Could this help give them an advantage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, y'all. Sorry for the delay. Enjoy.

*18 Hours Earlier*

“Well, that was…” Will pauses as he tries to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” Frankie answers as, she, too, tries to get her bearings. They lie side by side on the entirely too comfortable queen bed in Will’s hotel room, both panting and satiated from their previous activity. No one dares utter another word to break the moment; both in their own thoughts as to what this could mean. The sheet laid haphazardly around their waists moves as Frankie draws it up to her chest. She’s the first to break the momentary pause. “You know this can’t happen again.” She doesn’t regret what happened, but she can’t let it happen again. This little team they’ve put together works for a reason. If they throw a relationship into this, everything could fall apart. If she can put a stop to it now, it’s for the better. Beside her, Will lets out a sigh and for a moment, she regrets her statement. But it’s out there in the wind, so she forges on. She thinks he hasn’t heard her. “Will.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” He sounds annoyed, and there’s an underlying anger that she’s never witnessed from him. At least, she’s never been on the receiving end of it and it unsettles her.

She licks her lips as she tries to put together a sentence that doesn’t make him even more upset with her. “Look: we work together. This can’t jeopardize the dynamic we have. If-”

Will shakes his head as he maneuvers his whole body to face her, the movement somewhat calming him, to better control his emotions. “No, I refuse to believe that!” She just continues to stare at the ceiling, afraid of what she’ll find behind his eyes. “You can’t honestly tell me that this doesn’t change things. I feel it, and I know you feel it, too. You can’t deny it. You’ve changed from, ‘not going to care about any of us,’ and I like this new Frankie.”

She finally decides to turn her head, fully expecting to send him a glare, but it dies as soon as their eyes meet. He continues to stare at her with an unwavering certainty that scares her a little. She’s not used to this kind of attention, a sort of affection only reserved for two people in love. He doesn’t deserve to love her. Her past is shady; her connections to some very bad people can very well put him in danger, and she doesn’t want that. But Will has a virus, and Frankie’s well aware that she’s been infected from the very moment she stared into his eyes as they were trying to disassemble a bomb, no less. She tried to push the feelings down. Then she had to go pull him in for a kiss in France. She let her guard down for a fraction of a second, about to give in to some semblance of an emotion. Then she remembered who she was, remembered her dark and broken past and ruined the moment. An ache pulled in her chest as she saw the hurt look on Will’s face as she pulled away from him during their picnic. But she carried on and slept with that stupid tatted guy. She had her reasons. She’s Frankie fucking Trowbridge. She doesn’t do sappy romances, doesn’t deserve a happy ending.

Frankie opens her mouth to respond, to try to get him to see her side of things but is cut off by the shrill ringing of her phone. She’s fully prepared to ignore it, so they can finish discussing this thing between them, but Will’s phone starts ringing a second later. As they both peek at their phones, a sense of dread fills their stomachs. Something’s not right. They answer the phone as they make their way out of bed. In Frankie’s ear, Susan is telling them that they need to get on a plane to New York, ASAP. From Will’s position across from her, she can barely make out Ray’s frantic voice through their phone. They know this conversation needs to be put on hold as they throw each other their discarded clothes. Standish needs than now more than ever.

*Present*

A bell signals their arrival as they enter a quaint little café in downtown Manhattan. Booths like the left and back wall, and a bar and kitchen are to the right. It’s oddly reminiscent of a classic American diner, and Will immediately finds it comforting as he mutters happily to Frankie, who’s not really paying him any attention. A soft jazz plays through the speakers above them. Their eyes automatically scan the area as they make their way further into the room, but Will perks up and lifts a hand as he spots a familiar face. The man seated at a booth in the back stands and Frankie takes in the view. He has piercing blue eyes and his hair is a mix of red and dark blonde. He’s tall, all muscle, and if he didn’t look so much like a cop, she’d ask for his number. He returns Will’s hug as Frankie hangs back.

“Ressler, good to see you, man.” Will notices him glancing at Frankie and moves to introduce them. “This is my partner, Frankie. Frankie, this is Donald Ressler, a buddy of mine from Quantico. He’s working on a special unit that deals with high-value targets.”

“Nice to meet you,” she smirks as she shakes his hand in a firm grasp.

“I wish I could say the same, but given the circumstances, I’d say we might have a lot on our plate.” Ressler moves to sit back down at the booth, and they follow suit sitting across from him. “You didn’t give me a lot of details over the phone, so I didn’t have a lot to go on. Now, what is this organization that you call The Trust? The informant I’m working with mentioned a syndicate under a similar name.”

Will smiles. “First off, I want to thank you for meeting with us. I just wish we would’ve met under happier times.”

“Nonsense,” Ressler waves a hand. “I’m always happy to help out a friend.” He flashes them and smile, and Frankie clears her throat.

“It’s funny, I’m actually meeting someone, here, too.” Frankie checks her watch. The person that she’s supposed to meet is late. But, then again, he is a very busy man.

Will furrows his eyebrows in thought. “Oh, really? Who?”

As if on cue, the bell at the entrance signal’s a new customer’s arrival. In walks a man, somewhat average height, with a swagger as he walks towards the back. He’s dressed in a crisp Italian suit and a fedora. His presence commands attention while simultaneously remaining inconspicuous. Behind him, a tall African American man walks close, as if he’s a guardian or bodyguard. The shorter of the two smiles confidently as he makes his way to their booth in the back corner, telling the other man nonsensical stories.

“Reddington.” Ressler says his name with such disdain. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asks incredulously.

The man pulls off his fedora, sets it on their table and flashes them a smile. “Donald, please. Hasn’t your mother ever taught you to never use such crass language in front of a lady? And besides, that high blood pressure won’t do you any good. Surely you want to tell Elizabeth how you feel before dropping dead right before our eyes?” Ressler says nothing, but his ears start to turn a little pink as he continues to glare at the man. Reddington tilts his head as he turns his gaze towards Frankie. “Francesca. It’s lovely to see you again, dear.”

“You’re late,” Frankie greets but stands up to give him a hug. She can feel Will’s eyes boring into her as she hugs the other man. He’s probably bubbling with a million questions that he wants to ask. And so, he does.

“Wait,” Will shakes his head. “How do you two know each other?” He gestures to Frankie and this Reddington guy as they take a seat. The taller man, Dembe as he’s later introduced, pulls up a chair but continues to watch the front entrance.

Frankie shrugs her shoulders. “For a while, after my parents died, I ran away from Kelly’s house. He found me, took care of me for a while and made sure I didn’t dig myself into a deeper hole. He even taught me some things before I joined the CIA.” Frankie pauses, eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to her. She eyes Ressler and her the man she’s come to consider as a father figure. “How do you guys know each other?”

Ressler frowns as he scoots further into the booth. “He’s my informant.”

“Wow, look at that! Small world.” Will smiles at the serendipitous moment. Frankie rolls her eyes but fights a smirk. Only he would find a moment like this to be amusing.

Reddington turns his attention Will. “And you must be William Chase.” He eyes the two of them, as if scrutinizing, looking for any secrets they may hold. Frankie holds his gaze and raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to say something. He opens his mouth to speak but a waitress arrives. Reddington turns to her and flashes her a sweet smile. “Ah, yes.” He reads her nametag. “Judy! Such a lovely name. I’d like five cups of your finest coffee, please. Leave the pot, if you have to. I’m afraid we’ll be here a while. And I hear your pies are outstanding.” He chuckles as he shakes his head in wonderment. “I’ll take a few slices of your pies. Any flavor will do. Thank you, dear.” She nods and goes off to place their order.

Ressler scoffs as he shakes his head. “Only you would think to order a pie at a time like this.”

“Why must you be so grouchy, Donald?” Before the other man can respond, Reddington continues. “I’m starved, and a conversation like this deserves some refreshments.” Frankie turns to hide her smirk.

Will lets out a laugh. “I do like pie.”

“Of course, you do.” Frankie shakes her head in amusement. They need to get back on track, so she clears her throat.

Reddington beats her to it, though, as his expression turns serious. “Now, Francesca. What is this predicament that you’ve gotten yourself into that requires my services?”

They spend the next hour or so explaining everything that happened with Ollerman, and they give what little information they know about The Trust. Will and Frankie don’t leave out any details, so they get a better understanding of what’s happening. Both Ressler and Reddington listen intently as they try to piece together the facts. Will finishes by telling them about Ollerman going after one of their teammates.

“Standish is a little bruised, but he was lucky to get away. We just really want to catch this guy.” Will sighs as he thinks about all the headaches Ollerman has given him over the last few months. He’s getting tired. He just wants it all to be over.

“Or put a bullet in him.” Frankie hides her smirk behind her mug as she casually lifts a shoulder.

Reddington sits back, hand playing with the handle of his mug. His mouth does a little twitch when he’s putting together a thought. “One of our own, Elizabeth Keen, fell prey to a group only known as the Cabal. They hold some very powerful positions around the world, mainly in government agencies. Elizabeth was able to clear her name and return to working with the FBI, but the Cabal is still a working entity. I wouldn’t put it past them to join together to form a super group with The Trust.” Everyone is quiet for a moment as they think of what that could mean. Total government control to some very powerful, very bad people. Thousands of people could die if something isn’t done soon.

Will sighs as he rubs a hand over his face. “So, what do we do? What’s the plan?” Frankie and Reddington look each other in the eye. He can tell they’re having a secret conversation just by their facial expressions. It’s just occurred to him that he still does not know a lot about Frankie’s past; this Raymond Reddington guy confirms it. He just wishes she would let him in a little.

Frankie tilts her head. “How do we take down two secret government organizations?”

Reddington smirks. “How do we feel about forming our very own super group?”

Ressler raises an eyebrow as he turns to Reddington. “A what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there's chapter 2. I'm already working on chapter 3 so hopefully, I'll get it posted faster. Until next time, friends!


	3. Two Heads Are Better Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team-up of the century is about to go down. Maybe this will finally tip the scales in our favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I just wanted to say that this story is primarily a Whiskey Cavalier story, but I will try to fit in as much Blacklist stuff as I can. I just don't want people to get confused with the storyline or anything or that sort. Well, without further ado, here is chapter 3! Thank you.

Will Chase did not know what he was getting himself into when he agreed to Reddington’s terms, but this was not it. This man was on the FBI’s Most Wanted List, so he should have known better than to readily accept the proposition. But Frankie trusted this man with her life. He thought Jai was the only one she trusted in the entire world, and yet he was clearly mistaken. Her life was like an onion; she had so many layers. He just wants to peel back the layers and get to know her, not just what’s on the surface. He shakes his head at the sudden Shrek reference and joins his partner at the front of the large conference room. They’re at an undisclosed location that looks like a warehouse turned office space. It’s only fitting that the place is called The Post Office. He and Frankie stand in front of a large glass board that they use to put clues together. In front of the two of them, a large table stands with files and papers laid out. Around the room are a team of people Reddington put together. Or, rather, a few people Reddington deemed appropriate to join this supergroup of his. Frankie crosses her arms as she surveys the room.

Ressler stands in the back, arms folded across his chest with a serious, stoic expression on his face. Beside him is a smaller woman, about average height, black shoulder length hair dressed in a blazer and dark pants. She looks apprehensive, but there seems to be an open sense of exasperation to whatever shenanigans Reddington is up to this time. From the way she stands close to Ressler, Frankie can only assume this is the Elizabeth Keen that Reddington mentioned the other day. To the right of the table is a tan man sporting a dark stubble, somewhat tall, but shorter and skinnier than Ressler. Aram, as he’s later introduced, has his hands in his pockets. His expression is curious, much happier than the other two. Frankie can only wonder why he seems to be smiling this early in the morning. And finally, Howard Cooper, the Deputy Director in charge of the FBI unit secretly working with Reddington. He’s taller and much older than the rest of his team. His face bears the expression of weariness only seen from years of experience in the field. To the left of the table stands Team Dead Drop, as Will so lovingly coined the term. Ray stands, hands folded in front of him. He’s unusually quiet, but given the circumstances, it’s understandable. Susan stands a little close to him, hand on her hip, the other holding a cup of coffee close to her chest. Standish leans against the wall behind them clutching his laptop to his chest in a protective manner. His eyes dart around like a lost kid in a scary place. Jai stands next to Frankie as he studies everyone around him. One hand is in his pocket while the other is braced against his chin.

Will takes a step closer to Frankie and she tries not to move away. She knows they still need to talk about what happened, but there are more pressing matters to attend to. “Okay, guys.” All eyes turn to her as she takes command. She takes in everyone’s confused look and runs with it. “You’re probably all wondering who we are and why we’re here?”

Cooper adjusts his glasses and takes a step forward. “Reddington mentioned assembling a team together, but he didn’t give us any indication as to what that entails.”

“Of course, he didn’t.” Frankie sighs as she mumbles to herself, rolling her eyes in the process. “From our understanding, you guys know about the Cabal?”

The other woman, Elizabeth, takes a step forward; her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to get a read on them. “What do _you _guys know about the Cabal?”

Will shrugs. “Not much. Just that they have some powerful people in high, powerful positions. We think they might be joining forces with a secret organization known to us as The Trust.”

“The Trust?” Aram perks up and looks around. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“They’re another syndicate that we think might have some connects to the Cabal.” Ressler pitches in. “Reddington thinks if we put all our heads together, we’ll be able to stop both groups.”

“Hold up,” Standing shakes his head. “I’m confused.” He holds up a hand, squinting. His mouth is open, as if poised to ask another question but Susan puts a hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry. We’ll explain everything later.” Standish nods. Susan and Frankie share a look as they fight back a smile. “So, what? They team up so we have to do the same thing and form our own supergroup?”

“Precisely!” All heads turn as Reddington makes a grand entrance. Dembe follows closely behind. “Two heads are better than one, so surely the heads of CIA’s and FBI’s finest agents will tip the scale in our favor. Susan Sampson and Elizabeth Keen, two of FBI’s best and brightest profilers in the business.” They share a look as Reddington smiles fondly at them. He turns to Standish and gestures to him with an outstretched hand. “Edgar Standish, from such a young age, you were able to hack through the toughest firewalls and databases all over the world.” Standish’s eyes widen as he looks around the room, not used to this much praise coming from a man he’s never met. “If you and Aram Mojtabai put your heads together, you can accomplish anything!”

Ressler looks annoyed as he puts his hands on his hips. “Is there a point to all of this?”

“Yes, Donald, as a matter of fact, there is.” Reddington chuckles as he waves his hands around. “I’m simply saying that with all our resources and all the knowledge and skills each person has to offer, we can finally rid ourselves of the evil that has been haunting us for years. We all want that, don’t we?” No one speaks for a moment, so he thinks they’re all in agreement. He presses on. “Wonderful!” He claps his hands together as he places a fedora on his head. “Dembe and I must take our leave. We have some matters to attend to. Keep up the outstanding work!” He leaves without another word and a silence washes over the room. The tension is broken as Standish points to the door.

“Um,” he clears his throat as the confused frown on his face deepens. “Who was that guy?”

Ressler chuckles humorlessly. “He’s a piece of work, that’s what he is.”

Elizbeth, or Liz, as she likes to be called, slaps the back of her hand against his chest. “Come on, he’s not that bad.” Frankie watches as Ressler smiles down at Liz. There’s something there, but he’s trying to hide it. She wonders what that’s about.

Ressler clears his throat. “Right.”

Cooper blinks as he’s trying to figure out what the plan is. “So, what are you proposing we do?”

Will thinks for a moment. “Nothing,” he huffs.

Cooper tilts his head. “I beg your pardon?”

Will and Frankie share a look. She merely shrugs so he continues. “At least, not on the surface. Continue to do your jobs as you normally would. But, every now and then, we’ll meet up and share what information we have on these groups. From there, we can figure out how to take down these guys without raising too much suspicion.”

Cooper nods slowly as he mulls over the idea. “Is there a safe place that we can meet? I don’t trust that they have agents listening in on us.”

Jai perks up as he holds up a hand. “Our bar.”

Liz raises her eyebrows. “You guys have a bar?”

Jai nods. “We use it as a safehouse. I upped the security and shielded it against any electronic surveillance systems. Plus, we have a fully stocked bar.” Liz smirks, impressed. “Oh, one more thing. I need to do a sweep of all your apartments to make sure you aren't bugged or being secretly watched.”

“Reddington already has a team of his people watching my apartment,” Liz offers.

Jai’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to come up with a plan. “I still think it would be best if we take a look. We can never be too careful when dealing with a psychopath like Ollerman.”

Cooper clears his throat. “Very well. We’ll get that set up right away. In the meantime, I think it’s best if we all continue on with our business. This is a lot of new information to process.” He touches a hand to his forehead as if warding off a headache.

“Agreed,” Ressler nods as he starts to gather the scattered papers and folders on the table. “We’ll continue things normally on our end and we’ll try to contact you if anything changes.”

Will moves to shake his hand. “Sounds good. And we’ll do the same.” Everyone starts to file out of the conference room, Standish mumbling about wanting to get pizza, but a quiet Ray raises his hand.

“Ooh,” Ray smiles as he comes up with an idea. “Can I come up with a cool team name?” He pouts at their sudden, collective “no’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! In the first few chapters, I'm trying to set things up. I will, hopefully, try to pick things up and get some action going with the next chapters. Thank you, and goodnight! Or Good day, depending on what country or continent you're from.


	4. Do They Sell Umbrella's?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new mission is distracting the team from bringing down Ollerman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Sorry for the delay. Hopefully, things pick up from here on out. I'm trying to piece together everything as best as I can, so please be patient. Anyhoo, here ya go.

As the youngest member of the team, Edgar Standish often wonders where he fits in the whole spy universe. Granted, three years ago, he didn’t see himself as part of a team dedicated to saving people from threats and terrorists. And, yet, here he is, like a superhero. Suddenly curious, he swivels on his barstool and looks about the room at the people he considers as family. They’re like their own little group of Avengers, saving the world from evil. His eyes narrow as he tilts his head, thinking of which member of the Marvel universe his team would be. Will and Frankie huddle close together at one of the tables, probably going over documents the FBI sent over. Since day one, he’s considered Will to be like Captain America: seeing the good in people, wanting to help everyone in any way he can. And he’s got the muscles. With her mysterious past and personality, Frankie is 100%, Natasha Romanoff. She could probably kill him in a hundred different ways with just her thumb. He shudders at that thought. Turning to the left, he sees Susan smiling as she talks animatedly on the phone. She’s more of a Pepper Potts, not taking shit from anybody, and the best giver of pep talks. Ray isn’t in the room, but Standish can see him as more of a Peter Quill: a loveable goofball that can get the job done when needed. And finally, Jai Datta. Jai has the brains of the late, great Tony Stark, tinkering with all his inventions and gadgets, but he’s got the personality of Dr. Stephen Strange; quiet but lends a hand when necessary.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Gah!” Standish whips around, one hand over his chest, the other out to protect his face. He lets out a sigh as he relaxes. “Jesus, Jai. Don’t sneak up on a brother, like that.”

Jai simply smirks as he organizes the glasses and bottles behind the bar. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Standish rolls his eyes as he turns around to fully face him. “I was just wondering which Avenger I would be, if we all were like, you know, superheroes and such.” He tilts his head as a thought occurs to him. “Do you think I would make a good Spiderman?”

Jai pauses in his cleaning and squints as if entertaining the idea. “Which one?”

“Miles Morales, duh.” Standish scoffs like there was another choice.

“Personality, yes. But you’re not nearly as capable as fighting bad guys as either of the spider men.” Standish’s face deflates, and Jai lets out a sigh. He’s still not the greatest at talking to people, but he’s trying to work on that. He looks as if he’s about to place a comforting hand to Standish’s arm, but stops himself. “But, with our help, we can get you there.”

Standish smiles. “Thanks, man.” He perks up. “Hey, do you think you can make me one of those web-shooters like Spiderman?”

“No.” Before Jai can elaborate, Ray bursts through the door.

“Hey, party people!” He’s got a wide grin on his face as he clasps his hands together. There’s a sigh around the room as they notice his presence. While they are being nicer to Ray and more respectful to him, they all wish they could focus on bringing down Ollerman instead of dealing with missions that could cause a distraction or a delay. He greets Susan with a kiss to which Standish turns away, slightly grossed out. “I come with mission information!” Ray produces a folder from his suit jacket and places it on the bar top as Frankie and Will gather around the rest of the team.

Jai holds up a hand as Ray is about to start. “One second.” He pushes a hidden button and the metal walls cover the windows, now securing them from any listeners or trespassers.

Ray points to him with a smile. “Thanks, man!” Jai just nods.

Will sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright, Ray. What have we got?”

Ray gets down to business. “Director Casey wants us to look into an organization of assassins that operate globally.” Ray’s eyes subconsciously cut to Frankie. She raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something about her being an assassin, but he doesn’t take the bait. “He has reason to believe they’re planning an attack somewhere in New York.”

“How does he know that?” Frankie frowns. She has an idea of how the FBI was aware of a group of assassins, but she doesn’t want to share with the class just yet.

Ray hands her the folder. “Two days ago, a Victor Chechnov was killed outside a hotel in Moscow. No one suspected anything out of the ordinary until they did an autopsy. One the outside, it looked like a heart attack. When they dug deeper, they found trace amounts of a drug I can’t pronounce. His close associates said he never took any medication. The coroner also found a small mark on the side of his neck, like he’d been injected with a tiny needle.”

“Let me guess?” Standish cuts in. “He was working on a controversial, new science experiment thing when a big, bad billion-dollar company with ties to the KGB wanted to use said experiment for bad things. When he refused, they didn’t take it too kindly, so they killed him?” Everyone looks at him, stunned. That is oddly specific.

Ray’s eyes widen as he lets out a breath. “That is exactly what happened. Well, the ties with the KGB have not yet been proven. But, how did you know that?”

Standish shrugs. “I was reading an article about it the other day.” They stare at him for a moment. He looks around, hand on his chest, with a hurt look on his face. “What? I can read.”

Frankie rolls her eyes. “What does this have to do with us?”

Ray clears his throat. “He gave us a name. The Osterman Umbrella Company. He wants us to look into it, see if we can stop the attack from happening on US soil.”

Will lets out a chuckle. “Something tells me they don’t sell umbrella’s.”

Ray shakes his head as he opens up the folder. “No, they do not. We have word that this group operates for any of the well-known agencies, the KGB, CIA, MI6.”

Frankie’s eyebrows furrow as she frowns. “I’ve never heard of this when I worked for the CIA. Sure, my colleagues would go missing, but we knew it was part of the job and never thought anything of it.” Her eyes meet with Jai’s across the table and she knows he’s thinking about all their colleagues that were killed or went MIA.

“Most agencies thought killing their own would be bad for business, so they sought out a third party to kill for them.” Ray has a haunted look on his face. Surely, Ollerman would have known about an organization like this.

“That’s terrible.” Susan holds on to Ray’s arm, suddenly frightened that such a thing like this would exist.

“We don’t know who or when the next hit will be,” Ray continues. “But we have the name of the organization. Maybe we can run through databases, see if anything suspicious comes up.”

Will nods. “Alright. Jai, Standish. You heard him. Frankie and I will try to find someone in the CIA and FBI that might know what’s going on. Susan, help those two. If any names pop up, see if you can run a background check. Ray, we’ll call you if we need backup.” They all nod as they get to work.

Will and Frankie sit across the street from a busy street lined with small shops. It’s silent in the car as they watch the activity with binoculars. They watch one man in particular: Will’s friend from the FBI, John Ford. He outright denied the existence of the Umbrella Company in the beginning, but Frankie quickly got him to confess to knowing some information. The friend said he has no direct ties with the organization but can help them get into contact with their people, which has led them to a certain antique store. They listen intently through the comms as he speaks to the store owner.

“It’s supposed to rain today,” says Ford.

“You got the wrong forecast,” the man at the counter replies.

“Best to be prepared.” The store owner walks off and Ford lets out a sigh of relief.

“If you tip anyone off, I’ll send Frankie after you,” Will says to his friend. Frankie just smiles at the idea.

The store owner returns to hand him an umbrella. The friend takes it without another word and practically runs across the street and into the waiting car. “I got what you wanted.” He lets out a frustrated sigh as he pulls the comms from his ear.

Frankie raises an eyebrow as she’s handed the umbrella. “How is this going to help us?”

Will chuckles beside her. “Oh, wow they actually do sell umbrella’s. That’s neat.” He turns around in the driver’s seat to face the man. “Alright, Ford. She asked you a question.”

Ford points to the wooden handle of the umbrella. “There’s a number on the bottom that you can call. Set up a meeting.”

Frankie hands back the umbrella. “Alright. So, set up a meeting.”

“Woah,” Ford holds his hands up with a frightened look on his face. “Look, I got you the number. I don’t want any part in this.”

“You were part of this the second you agreed to go into that antique store. Now, call that number or I’ll put one in your knee cap.” Frankie pulls out her gun and places it right on top of Ford’s knee. Will, on the other hand, tries to be the mediator.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down.” Will places a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. He’s not entirely sure that she would really shoot his friend. But, then again, he doesn’t want to risk it. “He’ll call the number, okay? Just, don’t shoot him.” Frankie looks at him, waiting for him to budge. When it looks like he’s not wavering, she relents and puts the gun away. Ford calls the number.

Central Park is a busy place, so it’s only fair that the person chose to meet here. Ford said he didn’t want to be a part of this anymore, so they dropped him off a couple of blocks away from the East side of the park. As they walk around the park, they looked for the man that spoke on the phone. Ford said that he was waiting on a specific bench under a large tree in the middle section of the park. Will and Frankie make they way towards the middle and scan the area for anything suspicious that might put them in danger. When nothing seems out of the ordinary, they see the man in question and sit on either side of him. He’s wearing a dark suit and a brown scarf to help identify him without drawing too much attention.

He sighs as they approach. “The FBI are getting relentless.”

Will furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” How does this man know they’re with the FBI?

The man shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “I already gave them what they want. What more could you ask?”

This throws Frankie for a loop. “Who have you talked to?” If someone in the FBI was already handed this case, why would director Casey give this to them? Something’s not adding up.

“A tall African man and a shorter man with a top hat.”

Frankie grabs the man by the shoulders. “What did you say to them?”

Reddington knew about the Osterman Umbrella Company and now so does Director Casey. Frankie wonders if they were working together to give them this case. But why wouldn’t Reddington go to them directly if he had information? Frankie often wonders if Reddington is hiding something from her. She wouldn’t be surprised, given the way she’s seen him work. But this case, in particular, does not add up. Which is why Frankie and Will are on their way to a storage unit the man told them about. He said he told the other man to look for storage unit number 6, and then they will have their answers.

Frankie takes the lead as they sneak through the hallways. It's not exactly a welcoming place with it's dimly lit hallways, and dark metal walls. As they turn the corner, they hear a noise towards the end of the hallway. Will turns to Frankie, silently wondering if she's thinking the same thing. If that is the assassin, they have a chance to take them in for questioning. They pull out their guns as they continue with their backs against the wall, eyes moving around being extra vigilant. Moving past storage number five, they burst through the open doorway, guns raised, ready for a fight. What greets them, however, stops them in their tracks. Frankie's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Agent Keen?”

Elizabeth Keen and Donald Ressler look stunned as they all lower their weapons. Ressler is the first to speak. “Will, Frankie. What are you two doing here?”

Will turns to Frankie, equally stunned. “We were going to ask you the same thing.”

Keen sighs as she looks between the two of them. “Let me guess. You’re here for the Osterman Umbrella Company?”

Frankie nods as she takes in the room. It’s empty except for a metal suitcase on top of a small table. Inside is a folder probably containing information on the target: where they live, who they work for and other information that might be of use. “We’ll explain everything later. Have we figured out who the target is yet?” Keen finally opens the folder in front of her and the color drains from her face. Frankie doesn’t like that look. “What’s wrong?”

Keen turns the folder around and holds it up. “It’s you. You’re the target.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it! The next chapter will hopefully be posted at the beginning of next week or by next Friday. Thank you, and goodnight!


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